


The Call of Duty

by ThorneofAcre



Series: The (Mis)Adventures of the Musketeers [5]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Brooding, Emotional Fallout, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThorneofAcre/pseuds/ThorneofAcre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the events of 'The Good Soldier' would have affected Aramis</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Call of Duty

Aramis was a man of many passions. He believed in living in the present and following his heart.

Athos called him impetuous and rash, Porthos called him a fool. He was all of that, and none of that. He gave everything he had to what he believed in, no matter the consequences. His friends had his complete loyalty, his duty had his absolute devotion and even the women he loved had his undivided attention and affection while he was with them.

He did not believe in doing things half way.

He would jest and laugh at his friends and he would fight anyone who insults them to the death. He would lay with any woman who caught his eye but he would love her as she deserves. He would flirt with the queen, much to the amused horror of Porthos, but he would also throw himself on a bomb for her sake.

That was what made him a great friend, a formidable foe and a fearless musketeer.

But that was also his greatest weakness.

He could not shrug off the guilt of surviving a massacre which had claimed the lives of his fellow musketeers. He could not understand Adele’s choice to leave when she claimed that she loved him. He could not fathom betraying his friends or his king.

That was why his world had come crashing down when he had learnt of the captain’s betrayal. A man whom he trusted and looked up to, a man whom he would die for, so callously playing with his life and the lives of those like him.

Athos wrote it off as lies, Porthos refused to believe it and even young d’Artagnan questioned the accusation. But to Aramis it was unfathomable. And he hated himself for thinking it. But it made perfect sense.

Yet for all his impetuosity and hot headedness he was a man of the law. He did not go in guns blazing and challenge the man to a duel like his honor and the cries of his fallen comrades demanded. He had given his life to the system and he would look to it for justice. It did not occur to him that the king would be in on it, that there was no justice to be had, and that the whole ordeal had already been written off as a misunderstanding by the cardinal.

But he understood Marsac’s actions even if he did not condone them.

The ball from his musket may have hit Marsac in the chest but it killed him. A friend who had fought by his side and looked death in the eye, who had pulled him out of the chaos of battle when he had fallen, who had tended to him when he was unable, such a man did not deserve death by his hand. He would rather turn the musket on himself, but duty called and it was in his blood to answer.

When Athos, Porthos and d’Artagnan had returned from once again saving the country’s peace and the king’s honor, they found a desolate Aramis sitting in the darkness of his room, his head bowed and the musket that had taken his friend’s life clutched tightly in his hands. Their laughter had died down and their smiles had been wiped off. Athos and Porthos had looked at each other and silently debated doing something.

But it was d’Artagnan who had knelt in front of him and placed a hand on his knee until Aramis looked at him. He had taken the musket from him and kept it away.

“He saved my life, and I killed him.” Aramis had whispered. And he had wept, he had broken down completely, surrounded by the three men who would not begrudge him his weakness. They had sat with him through it all, silently offering him comfort and support.

When the tears had subsided and he was drained of all emotion, Athos had placed a hand on his shoulder and spoken slowly and clearly, as if talking to a scared animal.

“You are not to blame, my friend.”

And Aramis had believed him.


End file.
